


forgive me for this weakness

by cresswell



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Making Out, Pancakes, Panic Attacks, almost sexytime, im sorry, it would be hot, someone write these two smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Callie." He says, quiet, from beside the bed. He watches as her eyelids shift, watches the muscles straining in her neck as she lifts her head, watches her hair tumble down her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forgive me for this weakness

**Author's Note:**

> based somewhat loosely on a request i received.

He travels by train for days, maps open in his lap and coffee cups in his hand. Stef and Lena had woken him up earlier than usual, holding Callie’s diary and a landline that was already calling 911.

"Did she say anything to you?" Stef had asked, eyes wide. "Brandon, wake up. Did Callie say anything to you?"

In the time it had taken for him to piece everything together, Jude had refused to come out of his room, Mariana had started crying, and Jesus was arguing that they shouldn’t call the cops unless they were certain she was missing. “She probably just wanted some air,” he had suggested, probably mostly for the moms’ benefit.

"But why?" Mariana had asked, voice quavering. "Did something happen? Was it because of the trial? Or was there something else?"

Lena turned to Brandon, moving the phone away from her mouth. “Brandon? She talks to you; do you know if anything else happened?”

Brandon had caught a glimpse of Jude in the back of the room, his mind still moving slow from sleep. He looked back to Lena.

"No," he had lied, pulling on a face of confusion. "I don’t."

* * *

 

He crosses off each city he stops in. He finds all the foster homes she’s lived in, all the shelters, but she’s nowhere. His heart clenches, but he distracts himself by replaying every conversation he’s had with Callie about her life.

Stef calls. He doesn’t answer. Mike calls. He doesn’t answer. When Talya calls, he answers.

"Have you found her?" She asks as soon as he answers, sounding almost out of breath. Brandon frowns, a little taken aback, and takes a moment to figure out how to answer. "Um, no. How did you know I-"

"Where  _else_  would you be?” She asks, like it’s the dumbest thing he could have said. “Oh, never mind. Listen, Wyatt just sent me a text. It’s kind of hard to read, what with all the typos, but I think the gist is that he’s with Callie.”

Brandon sits upright in the train seat, knocking all the maps off his knees and onto the floor. “What?” He asks, probably too loud, because the woman next to him winces.

"Yeah," Talya says, sounding serious. "Okay, we know he’s in Indiana- or on his way, I’m not sure how far he’s gotten-"

"I’m in Indiana," Brandon realizes, almost deadpan, and can practically hear Talya face-palming on the other end.

"Then  _go_ , you idiot!” She says, and he does, jumping up and moving to wait for the next stop. “Bring her home.”

* * *

 

Brandon’s never been to Indiana. He starts by pulling out a crumpled picture from the quincenera and asking people “have you seen her?”, pressing his finger to the corner of Callie’s face, but people hardly give him an answer. Talya forwards him a text from Wyatt, and it’s an address, presumably Wyatt’s.

His heart is thumping against his chest and he runs all the way to the house, dodging several angrily-honking cars, and finds Wyatt running his hands through his hair worriedly in the front yard.

"Wyatt!" Brandon calls out, pausing on the sidewalk to breathe. Wyatt sees him and hurries over, face pale and scared. "Dude, where is she?"

"She left," Wyatt answers, running his hand over his face. "She found out I told Talya and she got so angry and ran off again."

"Damn it!" Brandon yanks off his backpack and throws it on the ground, spinning around to face Wyatt again. "How could you let this happen?"

"Hey!" Wyatt holds up his hands, eyes going even wider. "When she said she was coming, I told her I wouldn’t tell. I waited until we were in Indiana to tell Talya. I tried my best to give her to you, man, but she ran out."

He watches Brandon pick up his backpack and angrily pull out maps and papers. “There’s an inn just a few blocks away,” he offers, and it gets Brandon’s attention. “She couldn’t have gotten that far on foot. She probably saw it and went in.”

"You better be right," Brandon spits out, zipping his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder. "If she’s not okay- if she’s  _hurt_ \- it’s on you.”

* * *

 

It’s not a great hotel. It’s shifty at best, and the thought of Callie alone in there makes Brandon twist his hands together in worry.

"Hi," He says, approaching the front desk with caution. The girl behind it looks up from her magazine, eyebrows raised. "Um, I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl recently?"

She takes the photo from him and peers at Callie’s face, eyes squinted in concentration. “I think so? I think she came in about half an hour ago.” She turns to look at him again. “She was pretty upset.”

"Could- this must sound so weird, but could you tell me which room she’s in?" He sees the doubt on her face and pushes the words out faster. "She ran away and her family is really worried. I just want to bring her back."

"Legally, I can’t do that," the girl says, voice dropping, and pushes a room key onto the desk. "But if I don’t notice you take this and figure out she’s in room 214, well, that’s just an accident."

"Thank you," Brandon says, picking up the card and practically sprinting to the elevator. "Thank you so much."

As soon as the elevator slides open on the second floor he’s walking out, finding the fourteenth room at the end of the hall. He knocks, heart in his throat at this point, but there’s no answer.

"No, no, no," he says under his breath, almost a prayer, as he hurriedly works the room key in and pushes open the door. "Callie? Are you-"

He stops, letting the door close behind him. She’s curled underneath the sheets on the bed, her arm thrown over her forehead and her hair spilling like a halo. Her chests rises and falls slowly, her mouth parting slightly to sigh in her sleep, and Brandon carefully sets his backpack down and walks over.

"Callie." He says, quiet, from beside the bed. He watches as her eyelids shift, watches the muscles straining in her neck as she lifts her head, watches her hair tumble down her back.

Her eyes widen when she’s awake enough to realize he’s there, and she moves her lips like she wants to say something but no sound comes out. She crawls onto her knees on the bed so she can settle her arms around his shoulders and falls against him, the scent of her hair almost overwhelming. “I didn’t want you to come.”

"I had to get you," Brandon says, voice breaking. "Callie, I had to."

"I know," she says, and when she leans back she’s wiping tears hastily off her cheeks. "But you shouldn’t have."

"Stef and Lena, they talk all the time about how any love is love," Brandon says, his voice sounding young and raw. "They should understand more than anyone."

Callie shakes her head, wiping at her face again. “They won’t understand this.”

"I don’t care."

She looks up at that, her hands still clutching his jacket sleeves when he leans in and presses his lips against hers, feeling the tiny gasp that rises from her throat. The room is silent, except Brandon swears he can hear both their heartbeats.

"I want you," he says into her lips, his hands in her hair. "I don’t care who knows it."

She laughs as he tips them backwards, both of them tumbling onto the bed. He kisses at her dimples, the small crinkles by her eyes, feeling her chest move underneath them while her laughter subsides.

Her face turns serious and she works her fingers gently through his hair, her eyes searching his. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

"It’s okay," he promises, bending down to kiss a line down her nose. "You’re here now."

She smiles almost shyly, pushing up on her elbows to catch his lips again. His jacket comes off, and her hands trace patterns on his arms that make goosebumps rise. She looks radiant against the white sheets, all brown curls and soft smooth skin and heavy sighs when her head tips back so he can kiss down her neck.

He learns her freckles start on her shoulders and go down her chest, and he learns she’s ticklish on her sides, and he learns she shivers when he moves his hands lightly above the waistband on her jeans. She sighs against his ear and he can feel her smile against the side of his jaw, pulling her legs up at the knees to bracket his hips.

He buries his face in her hair for a moment, his hands stilling on her waist. “Let me know if everything’s okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple. “If I hurt you, tell me. If you change your mind, tell me.”

She swats his shoulder lightly, letting out another light laugh. “I’m okay. I want this.” She smiles softly at him, moving her fingers along his jaw. “I have for a long time.”

His heart skips and he presses a kiss against her lips, feeling her spine curve against him, and he starts laying kisses on her shoulder. He smooths his hands over her sides, smiling into her skin when she shrieks with laughter and kicks her legs around, and knots his fingers with hers, gently pressing her hands against the bed.

He’s pulling down her zipper when it happens: he feels her tense, suddenly, and stops to look up at her, but she’s got her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. “Callie?”

She reels back, kicking her legs out at him before pulling them in tight to her chest. “Callie, Callie, Callie,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing tone, holding his hands out in front of him. “Callie, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

He thinks she’s hyperventilating, and when he gently sets his hand on her back she’s shaking. She doesn’t pull away, which Brandon takes as a good sign, and wraps his arms around her, carefully pulling the sheet across her.

"Breathe," he murmurs into her hair, trying to act much calmer than he feels. He rubs circles into her back, trying to uncurl her as gently as possible. "Breathe slow, okay? You need to calm down, Callie. You’re safe."

It’s not like he’s never seen a panic attack before- Stef has them occasionally. But he’s never been the only one around when they happened. Callie calms down a little bit, he thinks- she stops hyperventilating, at least, but stays curled into herself, shaking, until she drifts off.

He’s not sure if it’s safe to let someone sleep after they have a panic attack- if she’s even asleep, she could’ve passed out or something- but he figures he’ll take his chances. Besides, he’s not going anywhere.

* * *

 

When Callie wakes up, it’s near three in the morning, and Brandon’s making pancakes in the kitchen. When he moves to grab the eggs, he sees her standing in the doorway, looking small in his shirt.

"Hey," he says, setting down the whisk to hug her. She hugs back, a sort of tired smile on her face when they pull apart. "Are you feeling better?"

"I- yeah," she says, squaring her shoulders. "I’m really sorry, Brandon, that shouldn’t have happened-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he interrupts gently, kissing the top of her head. "Really, it’s okay. I understand."

She smiles, setting herself down at the table and watching him cook. They’re silent for a while, Brandon cooking and glancing over to see Callie moving her finger along the map  he marked all over. When she looks up she catches him watching, and her face looks a little shocked and a little sad. Brandon frowns. “What is it?”

She shakes her head, folding up the map. “I- it’s nothing. It’s just.” She sighs, setting her chin in her hand. “You looked really hard for me.”

Brandon frowns, sliding the spatula underneath a pancake. “Well yeah, of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

Callie shrugs, a little bit of a smile back on her face. “I guess it’s just touching.” She smiles up at him as he brings over her plate, all eye-crinkles and pretty lips. “It makes me feel loved.”

"Well, that’s good," Brandon says, handing her silverware and the bottle of syrup. "Because you are."

They both seem to freeze- Callie, with the syrup in her hands, and Brandon while he puts his pancakes on his plate. “I… It’s true,” he says, sitting down at the table slowly as if he’s afraid he’ll spook her. “You really are.”

She watches as he practically drowns his plate in syrup, her arms folded on the tabletop. “Brandon, what are we going to do?”

He frowns. “Eat, I thought. But if you want to do something else, we can-“

"No, idiot," she says, grinning again, rolling her eyes. "I mean about us."

"Oh." He sets his fork down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "We ought to tell the moms."

"What will happen to Jude and I?"

"They’re not going to throw you out, Callie. They love you. We  _all_  love you.” He holds her gaze, making sure she understands. “You’re family. I have no idea what will happen, but I can promise you it will be okay. Okay?”

Callie nods, putting on a smile probably for his benefit. “Okay.”

"Okay. Now you should eat and shower and all that, because we’re going home today."

She pulls her hand up to her mouth and starts biting her nails. “I’m really scared, Brandon.”

He looks at her, reaching over to carefully tuck her hair behind her ear like he had done what felt like a lifetime ago. “I know,” he says, dropping his hand to envelope hers. “But you’ve got no reason to be.”

When she leans over and kisses him, it’s sweet and sugar-filled but it’s also sort of like the final kiss you give to someone before going away to war. The difference, though, is that they’re going to war together, and they won’t give up.


End file.
